


Magic Kisses

by Glitter_Lisp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lisp/pseuds/Glitter_Lisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hurts his hands. Dean makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Kisses

_“DEAN!”_

Dean lets go of the monkey bars and hits the ground running, flying across the playground to the swings. Sammy is on the ground next to one, round face screwed up with tears as he holds his hands protectively against his stomach. “I fell down,” he whimpers, hiccuping as he tries his best not to cry. “And I hurt my hands.”

Dean hisses as he examines his little brother’s torn palms. The wood chips beneath the swing set really did a number on the four-year-old’s soft skin. “Sure did, Sammy. Looks like you need some Band-Aids.”

“Band-Aids won’t fix it, though,” Sammy whispers. Dean grins.

“You know what will fix it?” he asks, and Sammy gives him a teary-eyed smile.

“Magic kisses?”

“Magic kisses!” Dean agrees, bringing his little brother’s hands up to his mouth. “Mwah, mwah!” He beams at Sammy, who giggles, before tugging his brother up. “Come on, buddy, let’s go wash your hands.”

* * *

 

“Augh!”

“Sam!”

“ _SAM!”_

Dean can barely see through the haze of red over his vision; the next thing he knows, the black dog is dead and he’s kneeling in front of Sam. “Hey, kiddo, you with me?”

Sam is shaking, staring at his hand and whimpering softly, and _fuck_ the creature absolutely mangled it. There’s blood everywhere, dripping down Sam’s arm, and he knows it must hurt like nothing else. “Hey, eyes on me, Sammy,” he says, pulling Sam’s face gently up to look at him. “Come on, buddy.”

Sam opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a high-pitched whine, and that settles it. Dad can deal with clean up, but Dean is taking Sam to the hospital _now_.

Six hours later, after shots and tests and finally getting back to the hotel, Sam is still hurting. Dean, sitting next to him on Sam’s bed, doesn’t hesitate to grab the teenager’s hand and press his lips to the back of it.

“What’re you doin’?” Sam asks, sleepy from the pain meds. Dean smiles.

“Seeing if magic kisses still work.”

“Mhm, th’ do…”

* * *

“Why are you staring at my cast?” Sam asks. Dean doesn’t move from his position, hunched over and trying his best to bore holes through the plaster.

“Shh, I’m strategizing…”

A slight pause. “Right. Okay, so I think there might be a case the next state over, but it’s kind of a tossup. Might just-”

He reaches for his coffee cup and helps as Dean snatches his hand. “Ow! Dude, gentle with the broken bones!”

Dean smirks at him, but he is gentle as he runs his fingers over Sam’s around the edge of the cast, and Sam’s breath catches in his throat when Dean leans over and brushes his lips across Sam’s knuckles. “Better, Sammy?”

“What are you…”

“Magic kisses. Remember?”

“Y-yeah. Bet…” His voice is coming out as a squeak. He stops and clears his throat. “Better.”

* * *

There’s blood and it’s cold, and Dean is there but so is Lucifer, and Sam can’t think, there’s a gun in his hand but he doesn’t remember-

“Stone number one,” Dean says, and “this is different” and “trust me” and Lucifer’s gone but Sam is bleeding. And it hurts.

Dean takes his hand and holds it in both of his, first over his heart and then against his mouth, pressing tiny, gentle kisses to his palm, rough fingers stroking over the back and catching on the bandage. “It’s okay, Sam, it’s okay, we’ll fix it,” he whispers.

Sam’s not sure if he’s laughing or crying, but either way his voice is choked when he says, “I think… I think this might need more than just magic kisses, Dean.”

Dean pauses to nuzzle Sam’s hand and press one more kiss to it. “Whatever it takes, Sammy. We’ll do it.”

* * *

It’s six years later. Sam’s just gotten off the phone with Kevin, figuring out all the logistics necessary to have everyone over for Thanksgiving. They’ll have to air out a few of the bedrooms on the lower levels, but there should be space for everyone. Jody and Alex will be coming over two days before everyone else, since Jody is the only one who actually knows how to cook a turkey, and Charlie will be coming the day after that, then Kevin and his wife, and Claire said that if she was in the area she’d stop in, too.

Sam smiles and shakes his head. It’s been years since he finished the Trials, and he still can’t believe it all sometimes, how everything worked out. How they all found each other. With a sigh, he reaches for his cane and makes his slow way into the kitchen to make lunch.

As he’s chopping up a tomato for his salad, his hand spasms unexpectedly, and the knife slices cleanly through the skin of his thumb. He yelps and sticks it in his mouth, hissing.

A moment later, Dean strolls through, grinning at him. “Thought you stopped sucking your thumb months ago, Sammy,” he says cheerfully, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Get me a Band-Aid, you dick. Ah, that stings…”

Dean snatches a box out of the counter and wraps it around Sam’s thumb himself, placing a gentle kiss on it when he’s finished. “Better, Sammy?”

Sam grins at him and pulls his brother in for a kiss. “Yeah, Dean. It’s better.”


End file.
